February 2007
Blood
Red Horse
by K.M. Grant
In the cool, sweet-smelling barn, twenty large horses were
tethered. Each was being curried by a groom, and the scrape of
the brush was interspersed with sneezes. It was the most comfortable
and comforting sight in the world.
William sighed with pleasure.
“Keeper John, I think I want a bay horse,” he
said. “With good, strong bones and a wise head. Perhaps
one broken to saddle last year, which has some experience already.
I need one that I can rely on, and I want to be sensible.”
They walked together through the barn, past a dozen tails
and rumps. Keeper John came to a halt behind an imposing iron
gray stallion. He said something to the groom, who moved to allow
William and Keeper John to approach the horse’s head.
“Now,” Keeper John said, “this young destrier
is not the color you want, and he is no beauty. But look at his
sensible eyes and deep chest. He is five years old and a decent,
courageous horse. We bought him last year from Spain, along with
three others. I’ve ridden him myself out hunting. He’s
a little slow, perhaps, but that is not necessarily a bad thing.”
William inspected the horse, but his face all the while said
no.
They moved on …
“What’s in there?” he asked.
“Oh,” said Keeper John, “a fine little
courser. Three years old. Actually, he is your Sacramenta’s
last foal. He had a bad beginning, poor fellow, and is proving
difficult to train. Pity he is so small. He was bred to be a Great
Horse, but can’t quite make the size.”
The bay horse was being backed out of his stall, but something
made William hesitate. He patted it, then, more out of curiosity
than anything else, walked quickly back to see Sacramenta’s
foal.
The stallion was liver chestnut, almost red, the unusual
color unbroken except for a small white star between his eyes.
His mane and tail being exactly the same color as his coat seemed
to flow out from his body, and his slender legs reminded William
of a fallow deer. The horse’s eyes were luminous and reflective,
his muzzle slightly darker than the rest of him. Larger than Sacramenta
but considerably smaller than the bay now waiting for William
to mount, he looked at the boy without blinking.
“Hello, horse,” said William, and, putting out
his hand to touch the silken neck, was suddenly lost for words.
Onlookers scoff when 13-year-old William de Granville chooses
Hosanna, a charismatic red stallion with a puny, impractical build,
for his first warhorse. But after what seems to be a miraculous
recovery from a grave injury, Hosanna earns widespread respect
and a celebrated place in the campaign for Jerusalem, which William
and his elder brother, Gavin, have zealously joined. Left behind
is Ellie, who is promised to Gavin but feels more connected to
William. Awaiting the Crusaders is the noble strategist Saladin
and his young ward, Kamil, who eventually lays claim to Hosanna--and
is similarly inspired by the horse's soulful presence.
This synopsis was written by a San José Public Library
librarian
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